Newsies Oneshots

Sprace/Yea but I love you!✅

Listening to Two Player game lol
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Race had been selling at the sheepshead track for as long as he could remember. He wasn't actually sure if Brooklyn was ever aware of this or if they just ignored him being there.

but one faithful hot evening when he was watching the races, a short muscular boy sauntered over and spectated from next to Race. He recognized him as Spot Conlon, the most fear newsie out there. But to Race he looked kind of.. silly? I mean he was a short boy with black hair and a thick Brooklyn accent, he was tough and rumored to have been in many fights but Race was unaffected.

The small boy looked up at him.

"So you's the kid I hear people talkin about? Antonio Higgins?" He frowned in a disapproving manner.

Race flinched at the mention of his full name, it reminded him too much of his mother. A lovely woman but she had gotten really sick when he was little, and he had no way of taking care of her.. he quickly blocked off that memory, it was too painful.

"Please," he smiled his charming smile "Call me Racetrack, everyone does."

He leaned on the railing and continued watching the game. The crowd was cheering and dirt was being kicked up all around the track as he let his mind wonder.

In his thoughts he debated what he should do about this new interaction. Spot was a notably handsome guy, but not really Race's type. But flirting with Spot would be a great option to get friends in high positions.

"You must a gotten a great deal on entry with a face like that. How much'd ya have to pay?" Race smirked, tapping his fingers on the steel he was leaning against. "What with your charming smile and all." He started guessing prices

Spot looked like he was computing what was happening. His brows furrowed.

Race was sure Spot got hit on many times before but probably not often with guys. Race also didn't think Spot to be particularly q u e e r.

"You better watch your mouth when you is in Brooklyn, got it?" Spot glared and turned to leave.

Race called after him as he walked away "aw don't be like that darling, it's just in good fun is all." But to no avail. Spot left and walked out.

Race felt a little disappointment but didn't dwell on it. Thinking was not a strong suite Race enjoyed practicing

Later the next day Race spotted a familiar face and walked speedily over to the shorter figure.

"Heyy, Spotty." He cooed.

Spot rolled his eyes but didn't look away from the track, "what could you possibly want." He kept his eyes straight forward and focused on the race.

Race mimed being shocked, a hand in front of his open mouth, his cigar in his other. "Well I just thought we hit it off so well yesterday I came back for more."

Spot sighed deeply, "well then I'd guess we better start heading to the lodging. Besides I'm utterly losing this race." He got up and turned to the taller blonde, "Come one then, pretty boy." He smirked

Over the course of a few months Race and Spot grew very close as friends and hung out often at Spots lodging on the roof or in a small closed of room that Spot, as leader of Brooklyn, got to have. This night was no different as Race sat cross legged on Spots bed, and Spot paced around a bit as they spoke.

Race chewed on his cigar and then paused to blow out the smoke, a ritual that helped calm his hyperactive mind and body and help him focus (adhd but he in the 1890s). Spot frowned and scolded him.